Ivan Tsarevich and the Secret of the Strawberry Zefirs
by AamalysStuff
Summary: Alfred and Matthew live a comfortable and boring life in the English countryside, in a house that is most likely not haunted. It all becomes more interesting when an unexpected guest shows up at their door one night. At 2 AM. During a storm. It's a story that features: Russian confectioneries, crappy English weather and fine Italian art. [America/Russia, Canada/Ukraine]


It was a dark and stormy night.

Which, truth be told, wasn't saying much. They lived in England, it was always dark and stormy. And grey and moody and nasty. The difference was in the degree of darkness and storminess and greyness and moodiness. Sometimes it drizzled. Sometimes it poured. It was most generally nasty.

However, in this case, it was especially dark and stormy, even by good old British standards.

The rain was poured and bubbled when it hit, a nice and proper storm that heralded doom and gloom and all that unpleasant business. And the Kirkland Mansion was quite a bit away from the London, far away that you couldn't really travel the distance by foot, with sprawling acres of land surrounding it so that you never got to see another soul wandering about.

Matthew had tried his best to get used to it. When he first got there, he could have sworn that all the greyness and the dullness and the wind made it harder to breath. But he knew that had to get used to it, because even though he had been all of eight years old at the time, he knew there was no other choice. For better or for worse, it was supposed to be their home. So. Better get used to it.

Alfred still hated it.

He still bitched and moaned over it, even though he'd had six solid years to get used to it, more than enough time to make peace with their fate. He still went over to Matthew's bed to wake him up if there was a particularly nasty storm outside, if the thunder was too loud or the lightning flashed too bright across the sky.

Usually, it went like…

"Hey, Mattie. Scoot over."

And Matthew scooted and Alfred laid down next to him and started to talk. And talk. And talk.

"I had a dream that I was turned into a fish and I had to find you, but you were a freshwater fish and I was an Ocean fish. So I had to find a stream and swim from lake to lake, but then I realized you were caught by someone to live in a fish bowl so I had to save you from them"

"But what kind of fish was I?"

"I dunno, a fish. You were yellow."

"Like a goldfish?"

"I guess."

"Alfred, those are native to Asia. How did I get in Asia?"

Sometimes it was…

"Hey Mattie, Mattie, Mattie. Wake up. I think I heard something. No, I'm sure I heard something. There was a noise outside my bedroom door, like a _creak_ or a _dum_ or something. Anyway, it sounded a footstep. Just one footstep though, so I think the ghost is back so I came over to check on you and see if you're okay and not scared. Scoot over."

So Matthew scooted over and Alfred crawled into bed with him. And Matthew looked at his twin brother whose blue eyes were a little bit too wide, and always made the conscious decision to be a good brother and not mention the fact that Alfred was scared of ghosts.

And sometimes it wasn't like that at all. Sometimes Matthew just woke at some point in the night and would find Alfred in bed with him, looking a bit guilty. A bit guilty that he woke Matthew up, but probably a bit more guilty that he was there, again. Because Alfred never really slept through the night, and truth be told, it didn't matter if there was a storm or not.

Matthew knew it was because, before coming to live with Mister Kirkland in his big empty house, they had slept huddled together in an orphanage back in America and then, Matthew would fall asleep while his brother was off telling stories and dreams about the nice people that would adopt them. A nice lady and a nice man, that would come to the orphanage fall in love with them and would want to take them home. And they'd have a dog. Or many dogs.

But the reality of it, which Matthew had understood early on, was that there was no nice lady and nice man to adopt them, because they were too old for that and since the Great War, few people had the money to adopt twins. So sometimes the nice couples that met Alfred's standards came to meet children and decide on which one they wanted to take home, but they were always passed up.

Alfred wasn't the problem. Alfred was happy and perky and got along with everyone. Would-be parents gravitated towards him and his big smile and his general sunny disposition. So many of them had been won over by Alfred, but Alfred came with one big glaring issue.

He came with Matthew, and people didn't want Matthew, because he wasn't cute and charming and talkative like Alfred, he didn't make friends easily and he hated meeting the parents that would eventually just want someone else.

Until Mister Kirkland came along, and he wanted them, and they were adopted and shipped across the ocean to live with him in his big empty house. Matthew had been grateful then, when he had been eight and scared and happy to be out of the orphanage, and he was still grateful at fourteen, even when he missed the warm, sunny American summers and had to deal with Alfred constantly moaning about the weather and the ghosts.

There were no ghosts. Probably. Most likely. Though he could admit – hypothetically speaking - if Matthew were ever inclined to believe in such things, he was sure that the Kirkland mansion was probably the best place for a ghost to live.

And on a night like this, Matthew was maybe, possibly – _not really,_ but – a bit more willing to believe in ghosts.

"Mattie, Mattie, Mattie. Wake up. I heard something."

Matthew blinked the sleep out of his eyes, sat up in bed and looked at his brother. Alfred was barefoot on the hardwood floor, and his toes were going to freeze over one day. Should remind him to wear slippers. Socks, at the very least.

"Was it the ghost again, Al?" Matthew sighed, scooted over to make room for his brother, but Alfred made no move to join. He stood there, rooted on the spot, his blue eyes wide and his body looking ready to sprint. Strange, Matthew though. He made no move to burrow under Matthew's blanket, and that was reason enough for him to pay a bit more attention. Not much – maybe 50% as opposed to the usual 35%

"No. Not that. I thought I woke up because of the storm, but I heard something and it wasn't the ghost. It came from downstairs. So I got out of my room to see, and I heard it again. Someone's knocking on the front door." His brother's spoke slower than usual, his voice as serious as it could possibly get. Not very, but at least he tried. It got Matthew to be more alert than usual – whatever it was that Alfred heard, it got him to focus on it. There was probably some sort of plan already forming in his head about what to do.

Matthew looked at the clock on his bedside to check for the time. It was a little over 2 in the morning. There was a storm raging outside and it had been for a while. Arthur wasn't expecting anyone, no one arrived in the middle of the night anyways, he always told them before and…

"There. I heard it again." Alfred bolted towards the hallway, and Matthew got up, got his slippers and started to follow him before he had time to really process it. Alfred had stopped at the head of the staircase, and...yeah, there was a knock on the door. "See, there's someone there."

Matthew felt himself tense all over. Someone knocked on the door. Again. It wasn't a loud banging noise, it was a little _tap tap tap_ that could have easily went unnoticed during the rain, but if you listened for it…

There was something uncomfortable knotting in Matthew's stomach. There was someone at the door. At 2 in the morning. During a storm.

Every day, there were some cars that passed by on the main road. Not many. The ones that stopped at the gate were and far in between, they rarely had people over. There was a little village nearby, and every morning there was this old lady that made her way from the village to the estate so she could cook for them. Every week, her equally old husband came over and did the usual gardening stuff to keep it all looking clean and polished. But the average age people there was _old_ and they never came around here if it wasn't for an explicit reason. At 2 in the morning, there was no reason for them to be here and Mister Kirkland wasn't the kind to entertain guests. People never just wandered about and stumbled upon the place, you had to look for it to find it.

"Alfred, wait!" His brother was already rushing down the stairs, so Matthew naturally had to follow him. "Alfred wait, don't just open the door! We need to get Arthur!"

Alfred didn't stop, he was just single-mindedly marching towards the door. Of course his brother would rush ahead to open the door for someone that was knocking in the middle of the night without thinking who it could be.

"No, Mattie, it's gonna take too long, and maybe they'll leave, or Arthur won't want to open!" That was actually what Matthew was hoping to achieve.

Sometimes Alfred said he was _such a girl, Mattie_ for not being as excited to throw himself headfirst into everything like he did. Thing is – Alfred was very brave, irrational fear of ghosts aside. The bravest person Matt knew – which, fine, maybe it wasn't saying much, cause Matthew didn't really know THAT many people, but Alfred was very brave for any kind of standards.

And yeah, _fine_ , maybe Matthew was sometimes afraid, but he preferred to refer to himself as being _cautious_. Cautious, because Alfred wanted to open the door to a stranger in the middle of the night without getting their guardian first and call him a coward all you want, but Matthew thought whoever was on the other side of the door was bad news.

"But Al, we should really get Arthur," he started, keeping his voice soft and low, hoping whoever was on the other side didn't hear them. Sure, the lock was strong, the door was sturdy, but... "You don't know who it is and it might be someone that's…"

"They might need help!" Alfred said and that was that, there was no room for any further argument. Matthew could turn around and run up the stairs to get Arthur, but Alfred would still open the door because maybe the person on the other side needed help. And Alfred was not about to just turn around and leave them there.

So Matthew just sighed as Alfred took the key from its place on the wall and unlocked the door. They would be in so much trouble with Arthur for this, he just knew it, but Alfred was Alfred, and Alfred did what Alfred wanted, so he opened turned the knob, pulled and…and…

"Oh, Hello. Very sorry to disturb so late." Said the sopping wet lady that was dripping all over their _welcome_ mat.

"It's okay, miss, I heard you knocking. Are you – are you okay? Come on, come in." Alfred grabbed her little suitcase before she had the chance to answer, ushered her in quickly so she got out of the cold. "It's really late. Did your car break down? Did you walk a long time to reach us? Oh my god, are you hurt? You're not hurt, are you?" He was talking fast, walking her towards the living room.

She trailed rain drops and mud through the foyer as she followed Alfred with small, uncertain steps.

"Ah, _no_. Not hurt. " She put too much pressure on her vowels, in a way that made English sound unnatural on her tongue. She took off her long coat, seemingly not knowing what to do with it. A tiny bit lost, a little bit unsure, the look on her face snapped Matthew out of his little daze, so he walked over to the strange wet lady and held out his hands.

"Miss, you can give that to me. I'll hang it up so it can dry." Her features relaxed as she handed Matthew her coat.

"Thank you," and she smiled down at him.

And Matthew…he really didn't mean to stare at her, but… her skin looked so glowy and her hair was wet and clinging to her flushed cheeks, and she was just so _tall,_ and her blouse was wet, and she was the most…erm.. _womanly_ woman Matt had ever seen and her voice was lilting and she smiled at him and she was so, so _pretty_.

So Matthew was just staring, standing there frozen, her heavy coat soaking through the material of his pajamas, because it felt like some kind of insult to just turn his back to her. At least until Alfred yelled " _Mattie_ " to snap him out of it.

"Sorry!" He stammered, feeling his face burning and his heart beating wildly. He wanted the earth to open up and swallow him, he hadn't felt so embarrassed since that one time Arthur _almost_ caught him reading _Lady Chatterley's Lover_. Arthur hadn't said anything about it, Matthew mused as he put the coat on the coat stand, so he was safe. It was too close a call, so Matthew decided the book was too risky to pick up again.

When he returned to the living room, Alfred was sitting on the couch along with their midnight guest. She was still dripping. Matthew cringed a bit inside, could already imagine a vein above Arthur's eye twitching when he would eventually see a big wet stain on his nice leather couch.

"So what's your name, anyway? And how'd you get here?" Alfred was straight to the point. Not much for politeness or formality, no matter how much everyone tried to install such things in him. He was looking at her insistently, squinting as if trying to read directly into her head and pick the answers out for himself.

"Of course. So rude. I did not say my name. I am Yekaterina" She spoke slowly and softly, choosing her words carefully like Matthew did in front of his French teacher when he was asked to talk about Balzac. Her accent was something he'd never heard before.

"Nice to meet you, Ye…-Katy…erm" A pause. Alfred tried twisting his tongue around the unfamiliar name, but Matthew knew that while his brother had many talents, an ear of languages was not amongst them. There was no chance he'd get that one right, and they both knew it. No matter, Alfred had no concept of awkwardness. "Miss. Nice to meet you, Miss. Do you have a shorter version of that? That's my brother Mattie, I'm Al." He held his hand out to her.

"It is nice to meet you too." She shook Alfred's hand, a small uncertain smile on her face. "And…ah, short? What short?" She furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Like you know, short for your name. If your name is like this long…" He motioned with his hands, spreading them widely to show length, "…how can I say it like this?" Hands came back together in front of his face, a little way apart. Alfred's face did that thing it sometimes did when he was trying to figure out whether he liked a certain type of food or not. Lips pursed and eyebrows coming together, in this case, probably trying to gauge if she understood what he meant or if he had to draw her little stick figures. Alfred liked explaining things with little stick figures, and insisted on using them even when the situation really didn't need call for them. Matthew was sure he did it just because it gave him the opportunity to fiddle with something under the guise of it being truly useful. It wasn't.

"Ah! Short name! Short name for _Yekaterina_?" Thankfully she got it. No need for stick figures.

"Yup! That's it." Alfred nodded enthusiastically, eyes bright. "See, like - My name if _Alfred_ but you can call me Al. And he's Matthew" – _oh please don't point at my face, please don't point_ – Alfred said, while pointing at Matthew's face. That was another conversation they needed to have, about how it was rude to point, but it was lost when Matthew felt two pairs of eyes – his brother, over-eager, and pretty wet lady, bemused and amused at the same time. "I call him _Mattie_." The smile that Alfred was giving him was expectant, like he was waiting for him to do something.

So Matthew just raised his hand and waved at both of them, feeling his ears burning. "Hi." Should he say something else? Should he walk up to her and shake her hand? Was she expecting him to do that? Sometimes he'd seen Arthur kiss the hands of ladies that he just met, but the thought of doing that made Matthew's chest feel funny.

Oh, God, she smiled at him and his stomach did a little flip. She gave a little wave of her fingers. "Hello, Mattie," but with the way she said it, the vowel was open and rounded and the _T_ pushed against her teeth. Her accent was so _foreign,_ she was so unnaturally real. Like someone made her with freshly fallen snow and ice shards for eyes. "Name…Short name…" A wistful expression passed over her face, there for a second before it disappeared. "Katya. People called me Katya."

"So Kay…-"

"No, no. Not like that. _KAH_. " Her mouth mimed a little exaggerated 'o' shape, accentuating and elongating the vowel to make her point. Alfred was following her instructions, and they both looked silly while making those faces and _AAH-ing_ and EE-ing around the unfamiliar pronunciation, but Alfred got finally got the sounds of it right.

Matthew didn't go through the motions with them, but made a mental note on it, ran the name in his head a couple of time, bounced it around his skull. Katya, Katya, Katya.

" _Katya._ " Alfred repeated, slower, to get the feel of it, and again. "That's a strange name. And your accent is funny. Where are you from?" She laughed at that, apparently amused at his brother's curiosity. Amused was better than offended, Matthew thought. Out of the few people that visited the Kirkland household, there were some with _funny accents._ None of them had been amused when Alfred asked them about it.

"I am coming from France now." She said, and that…didn't…seem…right.

"Oh, cool." Alfred found himself saying, and probably would have left it at that. Matthew, though, he found his mouth moving, with words coming out and all, before he had the chance to stop it.

"But you don't sound French." That made Alfred and Katya turn to him with a start. "I…erm…I speak French. My teacher is French. You don't…pronounce things like a French person would. "It made Matthew blush – god, this was awkward. It was moments like this when he knew he had been spending too much time in Alfred's company to comment on something like that so freely. Alfred, who was looking at him a bit confused and Katya's eyes widen just a fraction, before her expression turned graceful again.

"No, is not French." She confirmed, but didn't elaborated further than that. Alfred wasn't about to let her get away so easily with that.

"So? Where are you from then? You're not from the States. Are you from the colonies? The continent? You're very tall. Are you German? I heard German people are tall." He squinted his eyes at her, to figure out other possible explanations. Katya winced like she tasted something unpleasant.

"Ah. No. Not from the colonies. Not from Germany. More far away. East." She replied vaguely, but trying to wave the whole thing off. Matthew thought – what was East, further away than Germany.

"Russia?" He suggested softly, but she heard him and the look on her face, the surprise of it, he realized he'd got it right.

"Yes, Russia." She confirmed with a gracious smile.

 _Well, that explains the accent,_ he had time to think before he saw the frown on his twin's face and Matt braced himself for whatever was about to come out of his brother's mouth, because when Alfred got that look on his face it was usually followed by…

"You guys had that King guy that was killed during the Great War, right?"

… _something incredibly stupid._

Oh, _Alfred._ It wasn't like his brother was stupid – far from it. Alfred was very smart most of the time, one could even go as far as to say that he was objectively brilliant if he managed to get more than, like…20% of his attention on a topic and try to understand it. Mathematics and physics and chemistry, and everything and anything that required numbers and formulas and calculations were easy business. While History was cool and all, he could never be bothered to pay attention to the details like titles and terminology. A Dauphin was a prince, a Shogun was a General and a Tsar was a King.

He was more concerned with other things – like how tanks were developed, how efficient trench warfare was, how Napoleon used cannons in his army and most important - how independence was won, how countries united and turned on their oppressors.

Kings and Emperors and Tsars didn't stand a chance in front of Alfred.

Katya didn't know anything about Alfred, though, so she had every right to think that he was an idiot.

The good news was that Katya seemed infinitely patient and polite, so she just blinked owlishly at him for a little while, probably trying to decide on something to say. Matthew took it as an opportunity to study her fluttering eyelashes and sink further into his armchair.

And it was like that, when he tried to make himself disappear within the plush fabric of the armchair, Katya turned to him with a look promised a very unsubtle change of subject in 3…2…

"I am looking for Mister Arthur Kirkland. I was told given directions to his house. Is this right?"

"Arthur? You're looking for Arthur? Does he know you're coming?" Even Alfred seemed suspicious about that. It got Matthew on alert too. So Katya wasn't just a random lady that got lost in the storm and found her way to their house, she had been looking for it.

And by the look of her, she had come on foot. A long way on foot, judging by the state of her clothes. Her boots were caked in mud almost all the way. Sure, she might have come by car some of the road from London, maybe her car broke down, but she already knew how to get here, why not wait out the storm there? And the drive from London was long, but not long enough to warrant arriving in the middle of the night.

And she had a suitcase with her, was she visiting? They weren't expecting company. Arthur would have told them in advance. He would have called someone from London – if he had company over he employed a chef for the duration of the visit, hire a serving lady to get the house in order before they arrived. Not once in the six years they had lived here did Arthur have guests over unprepared.

And never such guests. Ladies came to the house only if they were accompanying their husbands, never alone. Arthur was a bachelor and had never given any sort of indication that he wanted to change that.

Matthew frowned; this whole situation didn't sit well with him. Right about now was the time in which he should have gotten out of his chair and go fetch Arthur, he knew that. But.

He was curious. It got the better of him. They had been living with the man for six years already and not once had something so out of the ordinary happened. He had to ask.

"How do you know Arthur?"

Katya's smile wavered, before she pinned it in place with determination.

"I do not know him. My Brother does."

The casual statement hung heavy in the room, neither of them knowing just how respond to it. Matthew took it as his cue to get up from his seat and go summon their caretaker, but almost smacked into him on his way out.

"What the hell is going on here? Matthew, Alfred, why are you out of bed?" Like the legends of old, speak of the devil and he shall come. Arthur Kirkland was wearing a robe over his silk pajamas, and fluffy slippers. All three of them had a pair, matching fluffy slippers that Arthur had bought last year for Christmas.

Arthur was glaring, a furious blush across his cheeks that spoke of _murder_ and _disobedience_ and _you are in so much trouble I can't even begin to explain._

Katya sprung to her feet when she saw him there, her hands running quickly through her short hair in unconscious gesture that betrayed nervousness. Arthur turned his attention to her, his eyes sharp and cold, like he could make her intruding presence wither away with him eyes only. Katya looked absolutely terrified, her shoulders folding in on herself, but to her credit she didn't look away from him. Instead, she smiled at him. Sure, it was more of a trembling of lips than something true, but it still qualified as a smile nonetheless.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Matthew winched, wanting to crawl away and hide in a hole. Venom oozed out of Arthur's words, it made him feel uncomfortable. Every instinct in his body told him to go hide in his room, he didn't want to be here for whatever was about to happen. But then – he looked at Katya with her slumped shoulders and her trembling smile and knew that he couldn't do that.

"Arthur!" Well, at least Alfred was here too. And Alfred seemed like he was completely immune to the aura of impeding danger that was swirling in thick waves around them. "This is Katya, she's was looking for you, cuz apparently, you're friends with her brother and…"

"ALFRED." He shut up at that, with the way that Arthur's voice sounded in the room. Alfred even had the decency to look a little baffled to be yelled at. "Be quiet! Take your brother and go to your rooms. Now." Arthur didn't take his eyes of Katya while saying any of it.

"Why?"

"Oh, bloody hell, _Alfred_. This isn't the time to do this. I need to have a conversation with Miss Braginskaya over there. _In private."_ Okay, yeah, sure, Matthew was convinced. He didn't _want_ to be here, Arthur's whole stance and attitude freaked him out and he felt like they were already in for a whole lot of trouble for tomorrow.

"Yeah, sure Arthur, but Katya needs help, you know? Maybe we could run a bath for her or something, she's been out in the rain, and you could always talk to her tomorrow." Alfred got up from where he was sitting on the couch and walked closer to Arthur, placed himself right in front of Katya in the process. Matthew had to wonder if it was a conscious gesture on his part, or if it was just Alfred-instinct to put himself in front of a damsel in distress and try to shield her.

Which was hilarious, because Alfred was a tall fourteen-year-old, but nowhere near tall enough to shield Katya from Arthur's eyes.

"She's not staying that long Alfred." He said seriously, looking at Alfred like he was crazy for suggesting something like that. "You're no staying that long. You're not staying at all. I am going to get dressed and I'm taking you to London."

"ARHTUR, NO." Alfred looked horrified. Matthew felt a little queasy, trying to make sense of this weird night. He didn't know Arthur as being heartless or cruel, or the type that would throw a woman out in the rain. That wasn't _gentleman_ behavior.

"Mister Kirkland. Please." Katya started, softly and slowly and like she knew how to say because she had prepared it in advance. "I come a long, long way to see you. I did not want to come to you, but there was no one else left." Her voice caught on the last word, and it looked like it made him soften just a bit.

"What you mean, there's no one left? Go to Istanbul or Vienna. Hell, go to Paris if you want to be rebellious. Don't come to me, I don't want to have anything to do with your brother." Arthur sighed. At least he wasn't yelling anymore, but his voice was still hard and unyielding. "While I'm sure you're a perfectly nice and well-mannered Lady, general understanding is that Ivan rarely, if ever, let's you out of his sight. I am inclined to believe this has not changed much in the years that have passed. I _do not_ want him looking for you and finding you in _my house_."

"Mister Kirkland, please. Listen. Istanbul, Athena, Vienna. _Da,_ go there and they turn me away. Could not stay." She shook her head sadly. It was clear she was upset, her accent was thicker now as she was trying to keep her voice steady. "Went to Paris to meet Francis, but could not stay. Francis wanted to help me, but he could not." The tears had slowly gathered in her eyes while she had been talking, and they finally spilled at that, a small sob escaping her.

Alfred turned to her with his eyes huge, like he had no idea how to deal with it. He looked frantically between Katya's teary face, and Arthur, torn between consoling her and glaring at him. Matthew knew his brother well enough to know that he probably thought this was all Arthur's fault, if he had been more understanding and willing help her from the start, Katya wouldn't be crying in the first place.

"Katya, Katya, come on, don't cry, don't cry" It was Alfred's Big Brother Voice, which he had used all the time when they had been at the orphanage. Alfred's Big Brother Voice, it was less of the consoling and soft variety, more like pitched and pleading and determined. Less ' _there there, I'm here_ ', more ' _don't cry, I'll fix it_ '. But in this case, he didn't understand what he had to fix beyond Make Sure Arthur Doesn't Throw Her Out of The House, so he was glaring daggers at their caretaker while he awkwardly patted Katya's back.

Arthur himself seemed just as lost on how to deal with this. You didn't have to be extremely gifted in reading people to understand that Arthur wasn't the person you went to for comfort while crying. So Matthew did what the other two didn't think to do, reached for the closest drawer where he knew the napkins for dinner were, pulled one out and rushed to Katya's side.

He didn't say anything while he held the small piece of cloth out to her, but she looked at him with her red eyes and her lashes heavy with tears. She took the napkin from him and clutched it to her chest, while she tried to get her breathing under control. Wiped her tears. Closed her eyes and took another deep breath. When she looked at him after that, she seemed better, more composed. Still pretty.

" _Spasibo"_ Matthew didn't have to understand the word to know what it meant, the gratitude in her voice making his heart ache.

"I haven't spoken to Francis in years, you know? I knew things were hard for him, but I had no idea how bad it was." Arthur's voice was finally mellow, apologetic while he approached. "Please sit down." He motioned to the couch again and Katya took her place from before, where a big water stain had already turned the leather form soft beige to mud brown.

"Does this mean you'll let her stay?"

"Alfred, goddamnit!" Arthur said, exasperated while sitting down on the armchair. Matthew sighed, that had been his spot. He'd just have to stand. That way it would be easier to get something if need for it arose. "She was sobbing a minute ago. You just throw out a crying woman!"

"But one that's not crying is okay?" Alfred's sense of righteousness shined brightly on his face.

"Is fine, Alfred. Mister Kirkland is willing to listen, da?" Katya looked at Arthur hopefully, Alfred expectantly, until the Englishman nodded. Yes, he was willing to listen if it meant she wouldn't start crying again. "I met Francis in Paris and he was really very kind to me. Offered me clothes and food, told me how to get to London. He gave me a little money too, but he does not have much anymore. War was hard. Said, maybe in a few years, he'd have more options, would be safer to help me. Not now. He sent me here."

"To me."

"Yes."

"For what? Sanctuary? Really? Francis?" Chuckled at the thought of it and got a far off look in his eyes, like he was remembering something long passed. It went away as fast as it appeared, though it left him looking more approachable. "You know, Miss Braginskaya, it's been a very long time since I last spoke to Francis. It's been an even longer time since I've heard someone refer to him as being kind."

Katya turned her eyes away from him, like she didn't want to face him. Judging by the look on concentration on her face, she was looking for the proper words to say whatever it was she had to say.

"He sent me to you, said you might want to help me. Said you had no reason to be… _afraid._ " The last word was barely a whisper, but they all heard it and it just stood there in the air between them. " _Not afraid, da?_ "

Like a switch clicked inside her, she looked Arthur straight in the eye and squared her shoulders before going on. Matthew suddenly thought she looked much older, the lines of her face harder.

"Miss Braginskaya, I…" She didn't let Arthur continue because she started talking.

"Mister Kirkland. I am here to ask for sanctuary. I have nothing to banter with. No money, no gold, but I am good worker. I can help keep your house clean, your children fed," she looked at Alfred and then at Matthew, gave them smiles so sweet and honest, something Matthew never saw on any of the ladies that came to the orphanage, "I have knowledge. I can teach them," she made a pause, made eye contact with Arthur again, "I can teach you, too. There are things you want to know, yes? All I ask for is shelter."

Matthew held his breath, because he didn't really understand what exactly she was offering, what she was asking for in return. He thought that her words held a different meaning for Arthur, because he seemed to consider it, consider her like he was seeing her properly for the first time that night. Whatever it was, apparently it meant something more than what it was at face value. Arthur's eyebrows frowned, and he asked,

"What are you running from, Yekaterina Braginskaya?"

" _No_ , not running." Katya shook her head, her hair making a wet sound when it connected to her cheeks.

" _Hiding_ , then." He corrected himself, "What are you hiding from? Your brother?"

" _Vanya_ would never hurt me." Katya said as a form of response, her voice low and her gaze falling to her lap, where she was clutching the napkin tightly. Her fingers were going white from the pressure. Arthur snorted.

"Of course he wouldn't" The dismissive tone of his voice and the eye-roll that accompanied it were just as telling as his words. He didn't believe her. He got up from his chair and started pacing around the room.

"Arthur, please…" That was Alfred. Matthew was sure that his twin understood even less than he did about the kind of conversation that was going on between Katya and Arthur, about the kind of conversation they were having _beneath_ the words that were said. However, Alfred understood everything about someone needing help, understood it so well he wasn't above pleading with Arthur on Katya's behalf, "You can't let her leave like this. You need to help her. _Please._ "

And maybe that did it, because Alfred rarely asked for anything, Alfred just demanded things. Maybe that was what made Arthur decide what to do. Maybe it was just his gentlemanly side finally making an appearance now that his anger had cooled down, that side of him that couldn't throw a sad woman out. Maybe it was the fact that, underneath the emotional repression and the occasional frosty demeanor, Arthur Kirkland did, in fact, have a heart.

So he sighed. He walked over to the couch where Katya was sitting with Alfred at her side, and bent over a little so he could be at eye level with her. Closer to her face than it was proper, but nothing on his face suggested any form of _improper_ interest. Curiosity, yes, he was studying her, looking for a lie, Matthew though, but there was nothing but sincerity there.

"Never thought I'd see the day in which Ivan Braginsky's sister would come to me asking for sanctuary." They kept saying that, _what did it mean?_ It was such a strange word to use, wasn't it? "Fine. If I'm your only option, _fine_. I won't deny you, Yekaterina Braginskaya. Your offering has been accepted, I grant you sanctuary. You are under my protection."

Matthew breathed out a sigh a relief. Alfred ran over to hug Arthur, saying " _I knew you had it in you to be hero, Artie_ " and Katya herself was sitting there dumbfounded, looking unable to believe what had just happened. When she snapped out of her daze, her gaze met Matthew's and she looked so relieved and the lines of her face softer, and she was even _prettier._ It made him blush and look away. Then blush even harder at the thought that she'd be living in their house in the near future, right? That's what it meant, right? Oh my god, they would have a woman – a soft, glowy, pretty, _tall and womanly_ woman - living with them.

It was scary and exciting at the same time.

Katya got up from the couch and went to Arthur. She didn't make a move to hug him, but she leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

" _Spasibo_ , Mister Kirkland. Thank you for your kindness."

Arthur looked at her silently, looked her up and down – but cautiously and with scientific interest, like she was a new exciting animal he had discovered, still trying to gauge whether she was dangerous or not. There was something between the two of them, a tentative agreement that went beyond mere kindness. Matthew couldn't help but think, while he was looking at Arthur, that kindness didn't even anything to do with it.

"Welcome to England, Miss Braginskaya. " He finally said, with careful consideration.

Outside, lightning turned the sky white. Thunder boomed.

Somehow, Matthew felt something much more grand and epic had just happened before his eyes.

* * *

Oh well.

So that's how it all started.

It started with a girl, on a dark and stormy night.

She came upon a big, empty house, were twin boys opened the door for her.

She was running and hiding from an unspoken threat.

The master of the house, moved by her story, decided to take her in.

They lived happily ever…-

Wait.

No.

It's really more complicated than that.


End file.
